


Caramel Cappuccinos

by Lifewriter



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, I may have bullshat a little bit of this as well, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marvin/Whizzer centric, Non-Explicit, Not really angsty, Relationship Study, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Will add more tags as I go along, a bit of cheating, happy ending might be a little extreme, kind of hurts, swearing I guess, the others are still there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 02:31:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14298831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifewriter/pseuds/Lifewriter
Summary: "He wanted to say something, to call either the man or woman over and say something about them leaving their kid on a chair by himself, but he found that he didn't have the time for it.One word ran through the brunette's head as he watched this all go down:Fuck.The little boy's pudgy hand slipped from the table surface, the surprised look crossed the boy's features, but obviously the kid had no idea what was going to happen if he landed face first on the hardwood floor."





	Caramel Cappuccinos

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, yet again, with another story! 
> 
> Hopefully, I'll try and keep chapters updating regularly, but I'm not sure if that's actually going to work out or not, as my life is a huge mess right now and my schedule seems to hate me! 
> 
> Hopefully, I'll be able to get another chapter out in the near future, (preferably this weekend.)
> 
> Comments and feedback are always appreciated! You guys make me a better writer!
> 
> Cheers!

To be honest, when he had decided to go out for a coffee that morning, Whizzer hadn't been expecting to move as fast as he just had in the past few seconds. 

It was certainly a.. different way to start his day.

The morning had been a little rough already, nothing that the young man wouldn't be able to handle with ease, but there was still the fact that he was currently cradling a squirming two-year-old half upside down and half upright in his arms. He'd been more than unready for such an action.

How had he gotten himself into this predicament? Whizzer wasn't really sure himself.

He had just ordered his coffee from the young barista, who was certainly trying to be flirtatious with him, but as early as it was (and as feminine as she was), he was more just half ignoring it and half brushing it off. He had to admit, she was a beautiful young woman, just not his type. Any other man probably would've been all over it. She was kind enough, brown hair, golden brown eyes. Really, she was trying to impress someone that wouldn't be interested anyways. 

Then there the fact that it was too early in the morning for any of this.

The soft hum of chatter from the four other patrons in the coffee shop was alright, nothing too ear-grating or irritating, but then his work came to mind, which put a bit more of a damper on his mood.

He wasn't sour about his job, which with a quick check to his watch, showed he had about an hour before he had to be back at the studio, running pictures for families with screaming children, wailing one-year-olds, grouchy parents trying to force their children to stay in one spot and unhappy toddlers, as if being held by their father and not their mother was the worst thing on the damned planet. 

Okay, so maybe he was a  _ little _ sour. 

It wasn't as if he hated what he did for a living. Photography had been something the young man had wanted to pursue ever since he could hold up a camera. It was the people he had to deal with on a day to day basis. 

There was always the frazzled mother who looked like she wanted to cry, or the frustrated father that looked like he wanted to put himself out of his misery, or the children that looked downright murderous because their hair was stuck flat down on their foreheads for the annual family picture that apparently everyone needed to get done around the same time of year. The weather outside was nice, so why the hell didn't they get someone to do an outside picture for them, instead of standing in front of a blank back screen and picking a nature background. The reason he was doing this sort of photography was because trying to pay for an apartment in New York sucked and people were generally awful. Basically, the job paid fairly decently. 

He heard his named called from a different barista and he went to retrieve it, before retreating to one of the corner booths. He took a spot where he could see the entire coffee shop from here - not that was a hard thing to do. The cup was hot, but not enough to burn. Caffeine was usually the best way to wake up and keep himself awake for a total of three hours max. 

He only had a few appointments today, and hopefully they wouldn't be too bad. The worse they were, the longer they took. Whizzer was silently hoping to God that the families wouldn't be god-awful nightmares to work with. Which had happened to him on multiple occasions. 

There was this one family that he swore was absolutely nuclear. 

The mother had a been rude and ignorant woman, seeming to look down at him over the rims of her ugly purple glasses. The man was pretty much Satan himself. Then the three devil children came into play. They had screwed around in his studio, managing to knock almost everything over. Even the things that shouldn't have been able to have been pushed over by  _ children _ . Then when it came to posing for the picture, someone always had a stupid face on, forcing him to keep retaking pictures. Which had stretched on over nearly three and a half hours of shrill voices and sharp demands. Whizzer would swear that this family was trying to drive him bat-shit insane. After they had finally finished the session, he let them pay him, which had been a healthy amount after all the shit they made him put up with, and  _ then _ he'd snapped. Forcing them from his studio and making it very clear that _ "your fucking family is a goddamn nightmare to work with you snide dickhead, so keep your devil children and your bitchy wife away from my studio or I will use my fucking rights to refuse your business. Have a lovely fucking day, assholes" _ . The door slamming behind him.

Surprisingly, he still had a business after that.

He had then officially - and very proudly - dubbed them 'The Family from Literal Hell'. 

Everyone else hadn't been nearly as bad as they had been, but there were some cases that came close to making his blood pressure rise to unhealthy levels. 

Whizzer sunk a bit farther into the booth he was in, the seat under him creaking only a bit as he shifted. The whole shop looked a little antique. It was charming in it's own way.

Blowing on the top of his drink, he watched silently as two young parents walked in, a young boy on the woman's waist. 

So, he took his sweet time to analyze them both. The woman had curly, shoulder length brown hair. She was dressed like she had her life together, her husband on the other hand was wearing the ugliest plaid shirt Whizzer had ever seen. The only people who would dress like  _ that _ would be people with no self-respect, if they had no sense of fashion or their lives were literally falling apart in front of their very own eyes. Hiding a snort into the lid of his caramel cappuccino, he realized that the man may be having a midlife crisis in his late twenties. 

He knew he could be judgemental, but if someone was to literally walk into a place looking like a human disaster, you could bet your ass Whizzer would have a say about it, whether it was kept to himself, or said openly.

The young brunette watched as the woman found a table a little closer to him than he would've liked, but he didn't say anything about it, and set the small child into one of the chairs. She seemed to figure the kid was alright where he was, and sauntered off to seemingly tell her husband off about something or other. 

Whizzer kept his eyes on the kid, watching as the little boy would stick his fingers into his mouth, or pat the furnished wooden table, or kick his ting legs. It was.. kind of cute, but he'd never really been a huge fan of kids. Especially not after they slobbered over everything they touched, or tried to stick their fist in their mouth and  _ then _ touch everything in their reach. He wasn't a germaphobe, but he could pretty much speak for everyone when he said he hated being salivated or thrown up on by kids.

Why was he so worried about the kid on the chair? Well, his parents had literally just left him there to bicker about something in line for a drink. 

_ A-plus parenting _ , Whizzer groused. It was painfully obvious they were new to this whole thing.

The man looked miserable, the woman looked like she was conflicted about either breaking down or just dealing with it. It was kind of pathetic to watch, actually.

He had to admit to himself though, that if something happened, he'd feel awful enough for just sitting there and watching, but he was almost one-hundred percent sure that he wouldn't be doing anything about the situation. It wasn't his kid to worry about. So, really, why would he need to feel guilty? He'd be the innocent bystander in this thing.

However, he watched as the kid moved to stand up on his own, and his heart did a nervous flip in his chest. The short little legs looked unsteady as it was, and the kid certainly didn't look like he was old enough to have upper body strength to hold himself up.

Whizzer felt himself subconsciously adjusting his sitting position. 

Brown eyes flickered over towards the young man, brown curls falling into the kids face as he seemingly gurgled something happily. Like he was trying to say something, but didn't know how. Goddamn, but the kid was actually pretty cute. So, he found himself smiling a bit at the kid, seeing if he'd get anything in response. The kid only blinked, but it's something he had been expecting. 

What he hadn't been expecting was to be getting fidgety. The parents were really taking a while, and when he looked over again, they seemed to only be getting to the till now.

_ For God's sake _ .

He wanted to say something, to call either the man or woman over and say something about them leaving their kid on a chair by himself, but he found that he didn't have the time for it.

One word ran through the brunette's head as he watched this all go down:

_ Fuck. _

The little boy's pudgy hand slipped from the table surface, the surprised look crossed the boy's features, but obviously the kid had no idea what was going to happen if he landed face first on the hardwood floor. 

Whizzer's heart rate spiked and he felt adrenaline seize his wrists like an electric shock almost instantly. He ditched the cappuccino on the table, having it tip and spill over  _ ("Goddammit, fuck my damn life")  _ and moved faster than he had in a while. Long legs be damned, this needed just precision and quick reflexes.

There was a loud swear from where the till was, just as Whizzer managed to swoop the kid into his arms inches before he managed to face-plant on the floor. That would've been bad enough. Sure, he felt a swell of pride knowing that he'd just prevented a little kid from cracking his head open, but he'd also put himself into the firing range of two parents that may or may not be pissed that he stepped in, in the first place. People could be rather absurd like that. He'd had people give him shit for just being relatively genuine to them.

Those were the people that he didn't care enough about to associate himself with.

However, he did hear that were a few people clapping for his remarkable reflexes and it did feel good to be appreciated or at least recognized. Any one would've done something to try and prevent a little girl or boy from breaking something.

Now as he got back up from his knees, he stood there with a squirming child in his arms, making sure to keep from dropping the kid, watching as the parents left whatever they were doing to hurry over to him and their child. 

"Oh my goodness, Jason sweetheart," the woman crooned, while making it to him first, her hand wrapped tightly around her husband's wrist as they headed over. As she opened her arms, Whizzer held the kid out to her, allowing the boy's mother to take him into her arms. Her eyes flickered over her son, before looking to the taller male. "Thank you so much for catching him. My goodness."

Whizzer shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem generic about it all, like he didn't feel like a fucking superhero for catching him. "It's not a problem, I just didn't want the kid hurting himself," he tucked his hands back into his pockets. His eyes flickered over his drink, his heart sinking and his attitude somewhat souring by the fact that he had barely gotten to have any of it, seeing how the inner contents had now been split outwards and laid over the table and continuously dripping onto the floor. He swore if he had to deal with nasty customers now, they were going to be dealing with a very irritated photographer. 

He felt someone watching him silently, as the other patrons had turned back to their own conversations now that the action was over, and he found the man's steely blue orbs locked on him. He was a bit startled at first, unable to read the expression in his eyes, before he hardened to match. He wanted to be the asshole that complained about someone saving his kid, fine, two could play at that game.

The mother had obviously caught on that he'd left his drink to keep their kid safe. "Sir, please, why don't we repay you by getting you another drink."

As much as Whizzer wanted to turn down the offer being made to him, as he had about half an hour left to get to his appointment, he knew that it'd be better to go with some caffeine in his system, rather than none. "I wouldn't want to be a bother," he looked to her, offering a small self-deprecating smile.

"Of course not!" She scolded him lightly, "it wouldn't be a problem at all. Marvin, be a dear and get this young man something for his troubles."

He watched as a muscle tightened in the man's - Marvin's - jaw and Whizzer couldn't help but let his snide side out, batting his eyes almost innocently at him. 

Without a word, he went back over to stand in line again. 

The woman took a seat with her son, before motioning to the empty chair across from her. "Please, sit. It truly does mean a lot that you saved him. We thought he'd be fine on his own."

"New parents?" Whizzer mused, but his question was light and understanding. He watched as her tight expression loosened a bit as she smiled, almost seeming older than  she was. 

"Yes, quite so," she agreed. "At home we've never had to worry about Jason, but-"

"It's really no problem," he kept her from spewing praises again. As nice as it was to know he had done something worth being praised, he really didn't need to hear it. He then offered his hand to her over the table. "Whizzer."

The woman blinked before accepting his hand. "Trina," she introduced, before releasing his hand and going back to holding the kid with two hands. "This is Jason." She then tilted her head to signify the other man in line. "And my husband, Marvin."

Whizzer's gaze went right back to the miserable man in line, seeing as his shoulders were hunched slightly and his head was tilted downwards, brown, unkempt curls slightly falling into his face. His hands were tucked into his pocket, but he could see that he was fiddling with his wedding finger, the golden ring slightly peeking over. Even though Marvin dressed like he was blind, Whizzer had to admit that the man was certainly more attractive facial wise. A sculpted jaw with a bit of stubble lining his chin. He also watched as the man looked over the male barista.

_ Bingo. The bastard's a closet case. _

It was fairly easy for him to identify someone's sexuality, even by just a quick glance. He always looked for telltale signs. Posture, who they looked at more, how they spoke, or what they wore. Whizzer knew it would be pretty obvious to anyone that he wasn't into chicks, yet, there were still the women that flirted hopelessly with him. However, the more he watched Marvin, the more he could tell he was hiding something that he swore the rest of the world wouldn't ever get the chance to know. The brunette was almost positive that he could break the other man if given enough time.

His attention moved back to Trina. 

"I certainly hope this hasn't been an inconvenience to you," she spoke softly. Either she had noticed him staring at her husband and just chose to ignore it, or just didn't pick up on the fact that he was gay and Whizzer was  _ totally _ checking out the other man, or she had been oblivious to it and was just speaking to him again now, after triple checking that the kid was fine. "If you need to be somewhere, please, don't let us keep you."

He waved her off, getting a bit more comfortable in the seat and offering a genuine grin. "I've got half an hour before I have to be anywhere, it certainly isn't an inconvenience."

Only, that, it totally was.

However, saying that to her face seemed a bit rude, even for him, so he decided to go the kind, modest way instead, trying to keep her feelings intact. It seemed she already went through enough at home, so, he wouldn't want to add to this poor woman's misery. 

She seemed to be looking so hopeful and he felt a deep pit of guilt for her. The two in the pair looked absolutely miserable with each other, and he felt bad for them both. Although, he felt more for Trina than he did Marvin currently as the shorter brunette seemed sort of dick-ish. 

"I just hope I'm not keeping you from anything," he told her, folding his hands together on the tabletop. 

Trina shrugged lightly. "We're really only making a quick stop before leaving. We're moving into our house across town, so caffeine was really the only choice at this point." 

He chuckled lightly. "Amen to that."

Their conversation felt less forced after that, and it became smoother, easier to talk, and he really  _ could _ find himself feeling for her. She had so much personality, so much life within her at this point, that marriage had seemed almost forced for the pair. He found himself wondering why two miserable people managed to marry anyways. He didn't have the heart to ask her that.

They were cut off as a drink was plopped down in front of him and he found himself looking back up to a disgruntled Marvin. So, wanting to show that he certainly was no pushover, Whizzer accepted the drink before returning to give a knowing look to the wife across from him. She smiled weakly. 

"Well, we should be going," Trina found herself saying, and the brunette watched as she stood up, and turned, only to throw a final smile over her shoulder. "Thank you again, Whizzer." And with that, she was taking her son out of the coffee shop. 

Marvin didn't follow nearly as quickly, and Whizzer found himself tilting his chair back a bit, watching him with steely brown eyes, slightly letting on his interest, but he was almost positive that his look would go unnoticed. 

The shorter brunette though, just looked irritated. 

"Is there something I can do to help you?" Whizzer chirped finally, hiding a smirk behind the lid of the drink he'd received. "Or are you already struggling enough, pretending to be straight?"

That made the other man splutter his words, a part of him looking outraged and another part looked like someone who'd been caught stealing candy in the middle of the night. "You're implying that- that I'm  _ not _ ?"

He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "You look unhappy as hell in your marriage, it's either the fact that you hate your wife, or you're just not interested."

"Keep your voice down," Marvin hissed, taking the spot Trina had just been in. "I'm not gay. I have a wife that I care about and a kid and-"

"That's what they all say, Marv," Whizzer mused, dark eyes flicking over the other man. He watched as the man stammered again, trying to defend himself. So, he grabbed a napkin and a stray pen off of the table beside them and quickly scribbled down his number. "But, if you want to prove me wrong," he challenged him, snidely, sliding the napkin over towards Marvin's closed fists. "That you're not a closet case.  _ Don't call the number. _ It’s really quite simple." He then smiled innocently, as if he had done nothing wrong, taking a sip from his drink, and leaning back in his chair. His eyes then flickered towards the entrance of the store, almost silently saying  _ 'go back to the wife you love so much. She's waiting' _ .

Marvin looked as if he wanted to tear the stupid number to pieces in front of his face, to show that he wasn't gay. But he snatched the napkin instead before grumbling something incoherently. "If you think you're going to be getting something from me. You're wrong," he then pushed himself into an stand, more than agitated at this point. 

Whizzer shrugged his shoulders. He was unfazed by the idea of not getting a call. He had others he could run along to anyways. Plenty of closet cases he had met at bars that had claimed literally the same thing Marvin had, only to still take up his offer and follow him to the washroom. 

"Alright," he cooed, "run along to your wife then." As Marvin then turned to leave, Whizzer cleared his throat, dragging the irritated brunette's attention back to him. "Keep a better eye on your kid, Marvin." 

Said man scoffed, before finally heading for the door. 

Whizzer swirled his drink idly around the plastic cup before licking his lips. "And for the next time I see you, for reference; chocolate is nice and all, but caramel is preferred."

He snorted as he watched Marvin storm out after shoving the paper into his jacket pocket, and shutting the coffee shop's glass door behind him while having the bell tinkle and swing angrily with the force of it. Some of the patrons turned to look back at him almost accusing him of disrupting their civil conversations, but he paid no mind to them as his attention was now focused solely on his drink, losing himself in his thoughts. 

How did he know there would be a second time? It was a simple answer, really. Whizzer wasn't blind to when people were checking him out, he did it all the time, so he knew what to look for. Discreet or obviously showing interest. 

Marvin hadn't exactly been the best with hiding his interested looks, so, the brunette was more than confident that he could receive either a text or a call within the next few days.

So, sitting back into his chair sipping on his chocolate cappuccino in obvious victory, he checked his watch again. 

Fifteen minutes before his first appointment. He could get to his studio in ten.


End file.
